Santé d'esprit
by SweetestSymphony
Summary: Sanity is a fragile thing. It can be a hindrance or a necessity. When you feel it starting to slip, you will do whatever it takes to get it back.
1. A Fragile Thing

**Title****: Santé d'esprit (1)  
**

**Author****: DannyPhantomFan06**

**Rating: T**

**Summary****: Sanity is a fragile thing. It can be a hindrance or necessity. When events occur that make you question it, you realize how precious it really is.**

**A/N****: This is an attempt at a fic unlike any I have done before. I'm posting this little bit (a teaser if you will) to see what kind of response I get. If it's good, I'll continue and you will all figure out what Rogue is talking about, if not, well, I'll figure something out.**

**Disclaimer****: I don't own any of the characters used within.**

**--**

Sanity is a fragile thing. I have learned this from many experiences in my life. It can hold you back or it can save you. This is the story of how I began to question this little thing called sanity.

For you to understand my story, you must know a little of my background. I am a mutant. This means that I posses an X-gene somewhere in my DNA. In a world where being normal is desired, I am a freak. Yes, I know that this simple difference does not make me a freak, but you have not heard the rest of who I am.

My mutation isn't purely physical, as that of some mutants. There are outward signs that could label me a mutant, or I could merely be a rebellious teenager. The stripes in my hair could be natural, or could be a result of dye. The Gothic garb could be to hide my mutation, or it could be an expression of my individuality. Until mutants were revealed, I was considered a freak because of my hair, my makeup, and my clothing.

Of course, my name was always in question. "What is your last name?" everyone would ask. I would ignore them, because I truly don't know. I don't even know my first name. I've always been known simply as Rogue.

My parents are a mystery to me. I was adopted at the age of four, or so I'm told. I've never seen the documents and I cannot remember events that early in my life. Information regarding my parents has never been offered and I have never asked. I imagine that they're dead. Some days, I wish I could join them.

I had a typical Southern upbringing in rural Mississippi. Like most Southern children, I attended the Southern Baptist church services on Sunday mornings with the only woman who has ever come close to being a maternal figure to me. I spent my days at the local public schools and my afternoons climbing trees in the humid atmosphere. As I grew older, I began to attend parties and dances with my classmates. It was at one such party that my mutation was revealed.

This is where the main factor in my string of problems came in. She claimed that she wanted to help me. She betrayed me and nearly broke me. She is the one person that I hate more than anyone. She is the reason I first began to question my sanity. She is my mother.

Enough of my background. Any more and I would be straying from my point. The rest isn't relevant to my story. The real story starts after the release and defeat of a mutant named Apocalypse.

I had been a main factor in Apocalypse's release. I had also been a main factor in his defeat. I really don't know why I played major roles in both, but fate is not for me to question.

The solution to the problem of the world was the start of mine. Apocalypse had done something to my mind. Rather than my powers working as they had for the years that I'd had them, they seemed to be malfunctioning. Shorting out, if you will. I could go for days with my skin exposed, brushing up against everyone I encountered and nothing would happen. Or I could accidentally brush against one person for a split second and have a headache for the next few days, as well as the memories of whoever was unlucky enough to touch me. It was impossible to predict and even more impossible to control.

Professor Xavier had no idea what was going on. Neither did Hank McCoy. They spent mass amounts of time looking for a solution, or even trying to find the cause. There was no evidence whatsoever. It was as if Apocalypse had done something undetectable to the part of my brain that is responsible for my mutation. If they had been able to find something, they may have saved me from the pain that I have experienced.

Many of the mutants at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters thought that I was gaining control. After all, I was able to walk around in whatever I desired for days at a time. I was far from control. I know that walking around like someone normal was irresponsible, but it felt so great to not be constricted by layers.

As time wore on, my powers continued to act sporadically. I began to recognize a pattern in the flare ups. They happened around certain mutants. Powerful mutants. Mutants with nearly unlimited potential. No one was aware just how powerful these teenagers would become.

I began avoiding the mutants that caused these flare ups. As long as I didn't come within a certain distance of them, my powers would remain latent. I could be normal. I was able to wear whatever I so desired. It was a great feeling.

As I look back now, I realize that it was a moment of teenage stupidity that caused all my problems. A 'why did I do that' moment. Even now I question why I thought it was a good idea. I guess it was part of my fascination with being a normal (how I loathe that word) teenager. I now realize I am far from normal. I am extraordinary. But then, I was insecure and looking for acceptance.

It was a boring Friday night in Bayville. My ex-roommate, Kitty was whining about something in her valley girl way of speaking. Most likely her boyfriend, though I can't be sure. I told her to go find something else to do, that I didn't want to hear it. She pouted, but phased through the wall to find someone who was willing to hold a conversation. I heaved a sigh a relief. The girl was my friend, but I could only take so much.

I went back to working on my homework. After all, being a mutant in your senior year meant keeping your grades up to ensure graduation. I had barely turned back to my work before she was back.

"What do you want?" I snapped. She recoiled, but didn't leave.

"I was totally thinking that we should go into the city and go clubbing or something to celebrate." As I said, she speaks like a valley girl. It pains me to hear al the likes and totallys in her sentences.

"Ah don't do clubbing." I believe that I have mentioned that I'm from the South. I speak with an accent, though it has faded from so much time in the North.

"Come on, just go this once." Kitty began to give me the puppy dog eyes. I can resist them, but I knew she would refuse to leave me alone until I agreed.

"Fine." Satisfied, she left me to work in peace. If only I had known what price I would pay for that small concession to her.

--

_Postscript_

(1) _Santé d'esprit is French for sanity. I needed a name and this one seemed to fit. If you have any suggestions for a better name, please let me know._


	2. Losing Touch

**Title****: Santé d'esprit**

**Author****: DannyPhantomFan06**

**Rating****: T**

**Summary****: Sanity is a fragile thing. It can be a hindrance or necessity. When events occur that make you question it, you realize how precious it really is.**

**Disclaimer****: I don't own any of the characters used within.**

**--**

I had barely an hour of peace before she came back. She attempted to harass me into getting ready. I ignored her and continued to work. Realizing that I had no intention of even acknowledging her presence, she phased my homework into my desk. I glared at her, but to no avail.

"Get ready so we can, like, leave already." She was out of the room before I could ask her to get my work out of my desk.

I sighed. I might as well get dressed, since I was not starting over again on my homework. I really didn't like clubs. All the people constantly touching one another. The random guys trying to feel up a girl whenever possible. It never had been my scene. Perhaps that is why I agreed to go.

I got dressed in my Gothic best. I knew Kitty would throw a fit when she saw it and demand for me to change, but I didn't care. It was just a miniskirt and corset after all. The mesh over shirt would be left behind tonight. A decision I would regret later.

Twenty minutes later, Kitty appeared through my wall. As anticipated, she threw a fit. I told her it was either Goth Rogue or no Rogue. She calmed down pretty quickly. Her pink skirt and high heels looked overly girly when compared to my black skirt and combat boots. The pretty white top she wore was extravagant next to my plain black tank. The light makeup and pink gloss stood out next to heavy eyeliner and burgundy lipstick.

We snuck out through the window. Logan had never approved of us going to clubs or staying until all hours of the night. I thought it was due to his age. I'm sure that when he was a teen there were no dance clubs. I honestly don't care what his reason is. I was determined to do something unlike me.

We took Scott's precious car. It was either that car or Jean's SUV. Optic blasts or telepathy and telekinesis. It was a no brainer. Considering Kitty's driving past and a forgotten warrant for her arrest due to reckless driving, I drove.

We waited in the incredibly long line in New York City to get into what I was told was an exclusive club. Finally, we passed the bouncer at the door. The air was pounding with the dance beats. I could feel the floor vibrating from the bass. It was going to be a good night.

Kitty and I chose a table and waited. Within five minutes, we had the guys lining up. Show a little leg and they come quickly. We were being bombarded with requests to dance. I chose to dance with a tall, dark-haired man while Kitty chose a blond. She could have all the blond guys. I wasn't interested after Cody.

We danced close to one another, but far enough so we weren't grinding. I don't particularly like dancing like I'm having sex with the guy on the dance floor. I felt people brushing against my arms and relished the feeling. He took my hand as we danced and I loved it. It had nothing to do with him. I was in love with the feeling of skin on skin. Of course, it couldn't last.

The song ended and we chose new partners. This one was a dark haired guy that I knew I had seen before. His accent was decidedly Southern in some form. I didn't even try to place it. I was trying not to melt from the guy's gaze. **(1)**

He really knew what he was doing. I allowed him closer to me than the last guy. Once again, I was struck by a feeling of familiarity for some reason. I pushed the feeling back and danced closer to him.

The song was nearing its end when I felt it. Someone laid their hand on my shoulder. I immediately tried to fight them off. I could feel the beginning of my absorption powers. I tried to scream for them to get off, but they refused to listen.

I found it hard to make anything out as the memories flowed. I heard Kitty screaming. I could hear shouts of "Mutant!" and pounding footsteps as people fled. I could hear my last dance partner yelling in French. Cajun. That's what the accent was.

I redoubled my efforts to break away, but was held in place by this person I was absorbing. The memories were coming too fast to even allow me to sort out who this person was. My thoughts became increasingly disjointed as the person continued to hold on.

I finally felt the hand drop away and heard a body hit the ground. I turned to see the face of the person ho wouldn't let go. She was a pretty girl. Blonde hair and blue eyes. She couldn't have been much older than me. Even without checking for a pulse, I knew she was dead.

Kitty slowly came toward me. Mystery man had disappeared. I fell to my knees and clutched my head in my hands. The memories were starting to overtake me.

I saw a happy family. This girl and her brother spending time with their parents. Picnics, family vacations, football games, friends, crushes, and exes. Everything flowed together. The memories came faster and faster. This woman meeting with Nick Fury. Facing off against mutant terrorists. Watching the rise of Apocalypse. Meeting Mystique.

Finally, the memories stopped. I collapsed on the ground, exhausted from the absorption and the memories. Before darkness consumed me, I had one thought. _Carol._

--

_Postscript:_

(1) _I am sure that some of you can identify this man. There are certainly enough hints in this chapter as to who he is._


End file.
